


Cherry Blossom Dwindling

by Nyanoka



Series: Glory Dancing Among the Junipers and Dandelions [3]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Age Difference, Age Swap, Begging, Dubious Consent, Extremely Underage, First Time Blow Jobs, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mild Painplay, Praise Kink, Shota Nezu | Piers, Size Difference, Spit Kink, Under-Desk Blow Jobs, cum facial, mild dirty talk, minor footjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 20:15:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29739288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyanoka/pseuds/Nyanoka
Summary: A day spent together in Victor's office takes a decidedly different turn.Not that they particularly mind.
Relationships: Masaru | Victor/Nezu | Piers
Series: Glory Dancing Among the Junipers and Dandelions [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2175654
Kudos: 8





	Cherry Blossom Dwindling

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Pokemon Day! I rushed to finish this to curse the tag on this wonderous day, and I was also pretty spiteful since we once again got fictional age gap discourse on Twitter. It's basically just another Tuesday as the saying goes, but it feels like every time I block a new anti-shipper, ten more pop up to take their place...similarly, what part of "Minors DNI and 🔞" do people not understand... 
> 
> Feels like Piers is doing a Benjamin Button too and getting progressively younger in my recent stories too but that's just because these are "linked" in the same AU...and short-haired Piers is always cute...his League card makes him look and feel so shy and uncertain too...

“Are you almost done yet?” comes the soft whine, noise accompanied by the clatter of a plate, crumb-covered porcelain set roughly downward onto the mahogany table by a pale, slender hand. An empty juice box sits nearby, green cardboard crumpled up, barely standing, and accompanying straw twisted, clear plastic bent and tied into a knot.

“Not yet, Piers, “ Victor replies as he examines another document, signature soon signed with a flourish, dark blue ink bright against the white of the page. “And be careful with the plate. Rilly already cleaned up after you last time.”

Piers pouts. “But how much longer?” A light _thump_ comes as Piers pushes his dish toward the center of the table. “And I can pronounce Rillaboom now. You don’t have to keep callin’ him Rilly.”

“But it’s a cute nickname,” Victor says, flipping the page. “and you came up with it yourself.”

“Yeah, when I was four.” Victor hears a light squeal as Piers pushes himself away from the table, chair legs sliding upon the flooring. “I’m almost eight now. You don’t gotta keep coddlin’ me.”

“Mm-hmm.” Victor doesn’t look up from his work.

“But how much longer though?” A light thump comes as Piers swings his legs, heels hitting the underside of his chair. Though, Victor doesn’t particularly mind, more amused than truly annoyed.

It’s too cute to be annoying after all, and he has always enjoyed teasing him.

“Few more hours.”

“But that’s what you said three hours ago! I thought you said you’d play with me today!” Another thump as Piers’s heel hits the underside of his chair.

Unperturbed, Victor replies, “Mm-hmm, and it’s still a few more hours ‘til I’m done. You can go play with my Pokémon in the other room if you want—that’s what Zigzagoon’s doing—or maybe watch some TV. I promise you’ll get the rest of the day with me when I’m done.”

Victor doesn’t have to look up to imagine Piers’s pout. He sees it often enough, and he knows Piers’s inclinations well enough.

“Can’t you take a break though? You’ve been sittin’ there since eight. Aren’t you hungry?”

Victor shakes his head as he finally looks up, eyes turning to look at Piers. “I’ll eat in a bit. I’m just busy today. A lot of things to sign, you know?”

Piers doesn’t reply, still pouting. Idly, Victor notes the tears beginning to form in the corners of his eyes.

Though, Victor doesn’t expect anything else from him.

Piers has always been a bit of a crybaby after all—a bit spoiled as well—but he doesn’t mind.

Piers has always been too cute for his own good, especially during these sorts of moments.

“There’s another sandwich in the fridge—peanut butter and strawberry jelly with the crust cut off—if you’re still hungry. Chips in the cupboard as well,” Victor says. “Or you can wait until I finish, and we can go to Natalie’s and then the record store afterwards.”

Marnie wouldn’t particularly like it. She doesn’t want Piers to eat too many sweets after all, and he’s been always prone to slipping him one or two treats every time he brings him along to the Battle Tower—little chocolate candies and toffees, ice creams bought from one of the shops in the higher-end of the town, among a plethora of other goodies.

Victor doesn’t see anything particularly wrong with the treats. It isn’t like he gives Piers an unreasonable amount of confections, just a few chocolates or perhaps a small child’s size cup of ice cream once or twice during their stays. But still, Marnie scolds him.

“It’ll rot his teeth out if you keep givin’ him that stuff,” she says, frowning.

He doesn’t agree with her. He makes sure Piers thoroughly brushes his teeth every day and every night, just before breakfast and just before bed. Thus, he keeps it a secret, and Piers does as well.

They have a certain understanding after all.

Plenty of shared secrets as well.

Turning the page and scribbling down another signature, Victor continues, “Or do you want to try that new bakery down the street?”

Piers doesn’t reply, but it isn’t strange. Perhaps it’s a consequence of his frequent doting—Marnie would think so—but Piers has always been prone to bouts of silence during these sorts of occasions. He isn’t used to disregard, not from Victor anyhow.

After a few moments of silence, Victor hears Piers leave his chair, feet meeting floor and steps soon moving closer to his desk. Though, Victor doesn’t pay it much mind. Piers, like any other impatient seven-year-old would, likes to annoy him, actions meant to garner attention.

Even when Piers crawls under the desk, hands coming to rest briefly upon his ankles, Victor doesn’t turn from his work, pen still scribbling. He’s used to Piers’s antics after all, and Piers has always resorted to these sort of tactics whenever he’s ignored.

Fingers messing with the laces of his shoes, pulling at the fabric of his pants, and a number of other activities.

He doesn’t pay attention to any of it even when Piers’s hands stop on his knees, palms warm and thin chest bumping against the bone.

He doesn’t pay any attention to it all.

Not until he feels a small hand grope at his crotch and a even smaller mouth press against his cock, tongue flicking out to lick at the clothed length.

Victor jerks, knee banging loudly into the underside of his desk and noise joined by a pained cry as Piers’s head bumps into the wood.

“P-Piers, what are you doing?”

“I w-want your attention.” At Piers’s expression, Victor feels a pang at guilt. He has never liked seeing Piers in pain.

“I…I get that, but I mean…where did you learn this?”

Instead of a reply, Piers leans in to lick at his cock again, hand moving to undo the buttons of his pants and movements only halted, not stopped, when Victor places a hand against his forehead, gently pushing him away.

“Joshua left his phone unlocked when he was babysittin’ last week,” Piers finally replies after a few moments. “There was a video of a lady and a man doin’ this.” He leans in again, and Victor nudges him away. “They look liked they were havin’ fun, and you’re always so busy, so I wanted to do somethin’ for you.”

Victor inwardly curses. He’s told Joshua to be more careful with his porn before already.

Words careful as to avoid upsetting Piers further, Victor replies, “It’s…that’s…not something you do with a random person, Piers. You have to like them.”

“But I like you.”

Victor shakes his head. “I mean when you _really_ like them, Piers.” He nudges Piers away again. “And it’s something that only adults do together—not with kids.”

“That’s fine,” Piers replies. “I really like you, and I can keep a secret. I won’t tell my sister or anythin’. Promise.”

“That isn’t what I mean.” A soft noise leaves him as Piers’s hand presses against cock, fingers stroking clumsily. His hand is warm, exceptionally soft. “It’s not something I’m supposed to do with you.”

“Why not?” Piers asks. “I told you it’s fine, and I can keep a secret.” He frowns then. “Is it because you don’t like me?”

“No!” His breath hitches as Piers’s fingers rub against his cock. Alongside Piers’s expression, cheeks flushed and the faintest hint of tears, he couldn’t quite help the noise that escapes him, strangled yet louder than the last.

It’s cute, too cute.

“I…I just can’t.”

Piers doesn’t reply, frown deepening. With his age, it’s more akin to a pout than anything resembling genuine distaste.

When Piers leans forward again, Victor doesn’t stop him. He’s too frazzled to, and more ashamedly, his cock’s already leaking and hard, length pressing uncomfortably against the fabric of his boxers.

Though, despite his discomfort, Piers doesn’t stop. Instead, his hands slide upward, fingers moving to undo his belt and then the buttons.

It would be easy enough to stop him, but Victor doesn’t.

Too cute—Piers is too cute, tears and expression accentuating everything, concentration more fit for a child taking an exam than for their current predicament.

And well, he’s never quite liked disappointing Piers.

Thus, he finds his hand moving to settle atop Piers’s head, fingertips gently pressing against the scalp and caressing, motion drawing a shiver and a gasp.

“Just…just be careful,” Victor says after a pause. “If it gets uncomfortable, stop.”

“Mm-hmm.” Piers shouldn’t be as eager as he about everything—his belt’s already undone, metal buckle clinking—but Victor doesn’t complain.

At the very least, it makes things less uncomfortable, less like coercion.

He isn’t sure what he would do if Piers didn’t have his enthusiasm.

Another soft noise leaves him as he feels Piers’s mouth press against his cock, warm tongue soon licking at soaked, off-white fabric as fingers grope at his clothed cock. A hand slides into the waistband of boxers to caress at the skin, motions more eager for contact than meant as anything intentionally seductive.

He shouldn’t be allowing this. He shouldn’t be _doing_ this.

But still, he doesn’t stop. He couldn’t stop.

Not with how cute Piers is. Kneeling as he is, Piers is even smaller than usual, slight frame trembling and nose scrunching lightly at the taste, breath uneven.

He wants to touch him, and he does, other hand moving to stroke Piers’s cheek before moving to settle in his hair.

“You’re doing fine,” Victor says, words drawing a soft noise and noise causing his cock to twitch. “Keep going.”

Piers doesn’t reply, tongue still roaming along the length of his cock, movements inexperienced yet drawing pleasure all the same.

With the slowness of everything, he almost wants to thrust, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to hurt Piers after all. Instead, he feels his agitation build up in his stomach, grip tightening on Piers’s hair, just loose enough to avoid hurting him.

Too impatient and too eager.

He’s entirely too eager despite the circumstances, body shuddering as he feels Piers pull down his boxers, hands soon wrapping around the length and stroking.

Though, despite Piers’s eagerness, he couldn’t say that there was any particular finesse to his actions.

The grip is too tight, nails scraping against sensitive veins in a way that spoke to inexperience rather than to experience; the movements too clumsy, strokes too uneven in pace; and a number of other details, both pleasant and unpleasant.

It isn’t that he dislikes it. Even when he feels an especially rough tug on his cock, he doesn’t call for Piers to stop.

Instead, his grip only tightens, action eliciting a low groan from Piers.

Everything—from the way Piers looks, brows furrowed in concentration, to the touches, and even to the slight bit of hesitation as he presses a kiss against the head of his cock, tongue flicking out to lick at the leaking slit—is entirely too cute, innocently lewd in a way that makes him want to buck, cock roughly forced into a warm mouth and to the back of a willing throat.

He wants to fuck him so badly, kisses and foreplay ignored in favor of thrusts and wanton moans, but he doesn’t.

He doesn’t want to hurt him after all.

Stroking Piers’s hair, Victor murmurs, “You’re doing fine.” A light wince comes as Piers’s nails scrape against a sensitive vein. “Really, you’re doing more than fine even. Don’t worry.”

At his words, Piers shudders, grip tightening slightly and drawing another noise from Victor. While his hands aren’t large enough to wrap entirely around his cock, his nails are long, not yet trimmed.

“Just...” Victor pauses. He shouldn’t ask, but alongside the warmth and sensations, he couldn’t quite help himself, inhibition dwindling with each passing moment and touch. “Can you suck my cock? Please?”

Piers doesn’t reply, cheeks only flushing further, and Victor almost rescinds his request until he hears a soft _okay_.

When Piers mouth engulfs the tip of his cock, Victor jerks, hand tugging on Piers’s hair and motion drawing a pained whimper.

“S-sorry.” Victor’s hand brushes through Piers’s hair, fingers massaging at the scalp.

It isn’t much of an apology considering everything, but at the very least, Piers doesn’t mind.

Instead, his hands only move to stroke at the length of his cock, slim fingers trailing along the protruding veins and fondling at his balls, touches eager yet inexperienced.

Though, despite Piers’s eagerness, Victor couldn’t say that his ministrations were particularly exceptional. Much like with his earlier strokes, Piers is clumsy, teeth grazing against his cock and tongue slobbering, saliva dripping onto both flesh and fabric alike.

It isn’t good by any definition of the word—too inexperienced compared to some of his other hookups—but Victor finds himself moaning anyway, grip tightening once more in Piers’s hair.

Too cute. Piers is entirely too cute—small mouth unable to take his cock even halfway without discomfort and choking, and eyes already tearing up because of the length and girth of his cock.

Alongside the pink flush of his cheeks and the soft, muffled moans, noises squeaky, everything is entirely unbearable, cock hardening further with every slight brush of skin and every lick.

He wants to thrust so very badly, cock sheathing fully in warm, wet hole and movements drawing both screams and moans from them both.

He isn’t used to this sort of pace—too slow and not rough enough—but he doesn’t want to hurt him either.

Thankfully, after a few moments, Piers withdraws, mouth leaving with a pop and breath ragged, thin chest heaving.

With a bit of shame, Victor notes the small bulge pushing against the gray fabric of Piers’s slacks, image drawing a twitch from his cock and more pre-cum.

Shifting, bulge rubbing lightly against Victor’s leg, Piers soon returns to stroking his cock, lips trailing sloppy kisses along the length and tongue sliding wetly along the flesh. With each slight movement, his cock brushes against Piers’s cheek, dirtying the sweaty skin.

“You’re doing great,” Victor says, words drawing another shiver and another thrust from Piers, cock desperate for friction. “Such a pretty face—so eager about servicing my cock.”

Under normal circumstances, he would never speak to Piers like this, but he couldn’t help himself, not with the soft moans and gasps that his words elicit from him, tongue still licking eagerly and cock still rutting clumsily against his leg. He likes hearing the noises that Piers makes, obscene and vulgar and high-pitched.

Though, he doesn’t want his ministrations to be one-sided. As much as he enjoys the sensations against his leg, he doesn’t want to leave Piers as agitated as he is, but he couldn’t tell him to touch himself either.

Piers is too inexperienced—anything he could do wouldn’t be all too great, inadequacy aided further by excitement—and furthermore, he doesn’t want Piers’s hands to leave his cock, fingers stroking at the flesh and playing with the dark, curling pubic hair. As inexperienced as Piers is, there’s a certain, perverse pleasure to be found in everything, innocence arousing him further.

Thus, Victor finds himself loosening one of his shoes, foot shimmying out of its boot. Thankfully, he’s never tied his shoelaces all too tight, and he’s always preferred thin socks, wool ones only worn on the occasions that he visits the Crown Tundra and on the coldest of winter nights.

When Piers’s mouth engulfs his cock again, saliva dripping down the length, Victor presses his foot against Piers’s crotch, action eliciting another moan, vibrations pleasant around his cock.

It isn’t the best of footjobs. With their current position, it’s awkward at best—he couldn’t even use both of his feet—but Piers doesn’t seem to mind. He only thrusts forward, cock rubbing eagerly against the ball of his foot and pleasure only accentuated when Victor pushes back against his crotch.

Though, even as Piers cums, orgasm much earlier than Victor’s, he doesn’t stop thrusting, cock still grinding against his foot and wet fabric sliding against his sock, sweat and cum smearing.

“Good boy,” Victor says, and he feels another vibration around his cock, another moan. “Though, can you take a bit more of my cock?”

Perhaps it’s a bit of a selfish request—his mouth is already tight enough, little teeth grazing against the skin of cock with every tiny movement—but Piers doesn’t complain. He only forces his mouth further onto Victor’s cock, eyes once again watering as the length meets the back of his throat.

It isn’t his entire cock, just little under halfway, but Victor doesn’t complain. He only strokes Piers’s hair again, fingers untangling the sweaty, dark strands.

“Such a good boy,” Victor repeats himself. “So very talented. This is your first time, right? Your first blowjob? Such a fantastic job and such a pretty face. You look so cute with my cock down your throat.”

No reply, nothing outside of a simple moan, small body trembling as another orgasm comes, fluid wetting his slacks further and Victor’s sock. He would have to wash and dry them later, preferably before they returned to Spikemuth later in the week.

Rubbing his foot gently against Piers’s crotch, Victor continues, “Now, can you keep sucking? I promise I’ll reward you later—something extra special for my pretty little boy.”

He isn’t even sure of what that reward would be, words more of a spur-of-the-moment promise than anything concrete, but he doesn’t have to wait long before Piers resumes his activities in earnest, spit dribbling down from the corners of his mouth and mouth sliding up and down Victor’s cock, tongue pressing against sensitive skin.

When Victor feels his orgasm near, he tugs lightly on Piers’s hair. He doesn’t want to cum inside Piers’s mouth—too messy for a first-time blowjob—but Piers doesn’t withdraw.

He only continues, sucking eagerly.

It’s only when Victor cums, orgasm accompanied by a low groan and a rough tug on his hair that Piers withdraws, coughing and cheeks and mouth smeared with cum. A _thump_ comes as Piers hits his head on the underside of the desk, noise accompanied by a pained squeak.

Shit.

“Are you ok—“

“A-again p-please.”

Well, he hadn’t quite expected that response, but it isn’t like he had expected everything else either.

Though, Piers doesn’t wait for a reply. He only leans in, tongue flicking out to lick at his lips, cum lapped up, and soft whine soon coming as Victor gently tugs on his hair, pulling him away from his cock.

“P-please.” The soft plea alongside Piers’s appearance causes Victor’s cock to twitch again, length already hardening. “Again. I want to suck your cock again please.”

Victor’s breath hitches at Piers’s words. He really shouldn’t. He knows that.

If anything, he should draw Piers a bath and bring him a fresh change of clothes, evidence soon washed away and occasion left to their memories.

But he doesn’t, not when another plea leaves Piers’s lips, _please_ quiet as the last and face still flushed.

He’s entirely too cute—soft and small and earnest in a way that makes his heart clench.

Furthermore, he’s never been able to say _no_ to Piers.

Coddling perhaps, but he’s never enjoyed seeing Piers upset.

Thus, he only finds himself nodding, grip loosening on Piers's hair and moan leaving his mouth as soft, wet lips once again wrap around his cock, sucking eagerly.

He really shouldn’t. They shouldn’t.

Not at all.

But still, it isn’t like anyone would find out.

They have an understanding after all.

Another secret wouldn’t hurt.

**Author's Note:**

> I actually consider the "extremely underage" tag for fiction to be five and under or so, but I'm also told my standards are rather skewed, so it's tagged here anyway.
> 
> As a side note, I did pull Leon in Pokemon Masters in 6000 gems! Super happy since that means Victor and by a lesser extent, Raihan, are my last two major targets outside of alts, and I have plenty of gems left. Also used my two striker candies on Leon, and he's way better than Red at 3/5 tbh...I love his EX so much too...it's so disgustingly orange and ugly...
> 
> And as another side note, I like to think Victor cuts Piers's sandwiches into little cute shapes like stars and hearts with sandwich cutters...the whole cutesy gambit...makes him cute little box lunches and all that too...
> 
> I gotta work on my other stories too...maybe another age swap fic? I know I want to do something with first time Piers/Victor and a plushie...


End file.
